Hide and Seek
by Pop Horror
Summary: Frerard.  Two-shot.  Gerard meets Frank when he's nine years old, hiding in an alley way.  Ten years later, they're hiding again, but this time it's so very, very different.
1. Chapter 1

**So guys, here's a lil' two-shot I wrote. I should have the next chapter up soon-ish (though in my terms, that could mean anything from 5 days to nearly a month) so don't lose heart! Also, a big thank you to Scarred for giving me a hand!**

**Oh, yeah, and I don't anything, except from the storyline, which is entirely fictional. (:**

2006.

I'm nine years old.

_One._

Mikey begins to count, and I find myself darting through the crowded high-street as fast as my stubby legs can carry me, Ray keeping pace at my side.

_Two._

I coil my way through the throng people of busy, bustling people, snaking into any slight crack or crevice I can place my eyes on. I lose Ray somewhere among the commotion.

_Three._

My senses are burning bright. Different smells, sounds, and sights are sneaking in from every direction—freshly brewed coffee, sunlight splashing off lazy, drizzly sidewalks, exhaust fumes, the mindless, jovial chatter of strangers… Cherry blossom flutters through the air, catching to my clothes, like snowflakes. The world is still fresh from the spring rain.

_Four._

I dash across the road, scraping past a taxi cab, causing it to screech to a halt. The driver smashes his fist off the horn, rolls down his window, barks some disgusting profanities, but I don't take much notice.

_Five._

My mouth is dry, now. I pant, lapping up the air, but there is very little oxygen reaching my lungs, and I fear I may need to stop soon. That's just what I get for being lazy.

_Six._

I pause for second, hands on my knees, bending over, savouring every last drop of oxygen I gulp up. My body being jostled through the masses, I peer through strands of long greasy hair to find that Mikey is still within sight, hands clamped over his eyes. I need to get a move on.

_Seven._

I snap back into motion. Picking up more speed than ever before, I flash past the bystanders, trying to interrupt their busy schedules as little as possible. I know where I'm going to hide now.

_Eight._

I make a sharp turn into an alley way, into the shadows. My lungs are filled with the stench of rotting takeaway meals, musty alcohol, open drain pipes, and smouldering cigarettes. I gag, but carry on.

_Nine._

Blasting to the back of the alley way, dodging the festering rodent and used needles which bombard the floor, I push my body behind a trash can and wait in the silence, emptiness, and loneliness.

_Ten._

But I'm not alone. There's someone else there.

He's a boy, around my age probably, maybe a year or two younger, with short brown hair sticking up at all angles, like stalks of grass, mud smeared across his cheek—war paint. He's crouching down; his lips sealed tightly, like making even the slightest noise could endanger his life. He doesn't acknowledge my presence, choosing to continue staring round the corner of the metal vessel.

"My name's Gerard", I announce, although he does little to show he has heard me, "And I'm hiding from my brother. We're playing Hide and Seek!"

The boy's eyes flicker a little, but he doesn't switch his gaze from the alley way's paved floor, like he was caught in a trance.

"Are you playing Hide and Seek, too? Are you any good at it? How long have you been hiding here?"

The boy doesn't reply immediately. He wrinkles his nose a little—sniffles—his throat making a crackling, croaking noise, but when he does, his voice is smooth, flowing like velvet, completely unexpected for being such a small child.

"I guess I've learnt to get pretty good at it… And I've been hiding here for quite a bit, now…"

I giggle a little.

"So, what's your name? You still haven't told me it."

The boy bites his lip, rolling his teeth across the flesh a little before proceeding.

"Frank."

His voice is slight, but it bounces off the walls, echoing like the ringing of bells, tickling the air with its delicate touch, yet seeping through, thick like syrup.

Smiling, I hold out my hand to his, and he takes it warily, gently shaking it. That was how Momma always told me to greet new people—you've always got to be polite.

But it made Frank's face light up. Grinning wildly, showing his newly developed 'adult teeth', creases forming round the corners of his lips, his eyes screwing up as his giggles cut through the silence of the alley way. And that laugh! Before, he had seemed grown up, mature, but his laughter reminds me that this boy was nothing but nine years old—naïve and youthful.

And, suddenly, his face crumbles as pounding footsteps and barking voices make their way into the alley way, abolishing the light hearted atmosphere we had created.

"What's wrong?" I ask, apprehensive.

"I'm not playing hide and seek…" His voice trembles and quivers, as his eyes begin to swell and go bloodshot, little pinpricks of water forming in the inner corners. He starts to gnaw at his lip again.

"Then what are you hiding from?"

He sighs, deep, melancholic.

"I'm hiding from them."

I gaze to where he is pointing. The entrance of the alley way is guarded by three boys. They're the type of boys that are big built and bulky. They're the type of boys that name their dogs' things like 'Killer' and 'Sid'. They're the type of boys that are always in fights. They're the type of boys who would love to _kill_ boys like us.

Casing his arms around his knees, pulling them into his chest, Frank began to rock back and forth in time with his staggered breaths, whimpering like a lost puppy dog.

"Please, don't let them hurt me…"

"Hurt you?" I shimmy my body closer to his, looking into his eyes, our noses nearly touching, his warm breath stroking my face as his pants became even more panicked. "They're not going to hurt you!"

"But they always do." His throat is scraping out words, now, like nails down a chalkboard. "No matter how much I hide, they always find me, and they always beat me up…"

Shaking my head, I placed my hands on his shoulder, pulsating his body as I spoke.

"You don't need to worry about them."

He looks at me like I'm speaking in foreign tongues.

"You don't need to hide from them anymore. Just think of it this way—the more you hide, the more they'll hunt you down. So you just need to be brave—you need to put on your game face, look them in the eye and tell them you're not scared of them anymore. They need to know who's boss…"

Frank's breathing calms down a little, as he breaks his gaze from mine to peer back through the trash cans at his fear. He lets his lip free from teeth, a raw red mark now left on the pastel of his skin. He flickers his eyelids before consulting my eyes again.

My voice unexpectedly changing to a soothing, barely audible undertone, I clasp his sticky palm in mine.

"And I'm going to be here to help you."

His face stutters, changes into something which, maybe, just maybe, hints at a smile. That, in itself, causes me to beam. Ever so slowly, I rise to my feet, pulling him with me.

We march towards the boys, hand in hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**BOOYA GUYS! I have then last chapter up at last... Please excuse my extremely slow writing ability and short attention span...**

2016.

I'm nineteen years old.

One.

I count the bombs as I run through the streets, listening as they blast away the last of all that's living from this God forsaken town. All we have left are ruins and wreckages.

Two.

Dust dances across the sidewalk as I dash through the desolated town, dodging past, not people as it once would have been, but corpses—the forgotten shells that house the souls of the unlucky ones—the people, like us, who didn't just quite hide well enough.

Three.

It's only now as I zoom past my surroundings that I realise how much this place has transformed since I was young. In ten years so much can change in society, but one thing always stayed the same—we were always hiding.

Four.

I can't help but feel guilty. This town has been shattered because people like me—the rebels, the outcasts, the Killjoys—refused to give in to the BL/ind. We refused to take their medicines. We refused to swallow the Pill.

Five.

We knew from the outset that they were liars. They promised their control—their drugs—would be the solution to the Fires, and in their safe arms—the security of Battery City—we would no longer have to fear. Citizens flew to them like moths to lamp light. A select few, however, myself, my lover, my younger brother, and best friend included, did not want to follow like sheep.

Six.

So, they burned the world down. Anywhere that wasn't a sheltered BL/ind residential area—Battery City being the largest and most substantial of these dwellings—was completely destroyed. They sent in troupes—Dracs—to hunt us down, and once they thought they had every last morsel of life drained from the towns, they bombed them just to make sure.

Seven.

And that's what was happening to our home town now; it was in the final stage of eradication. But I was tired now and wasn't sure if I could keep playing this game of hide and seek, for it was harder to hide from a bomb than a cop.

Eight.

But at this very moment in time, I was playing the seeking role. Frank, my boyfriend, was missing and had been since getting caught in a gunfight with some Dracs in the early hours of the morning. After searching the town top to bottom since then, there was only one place I knew he could be.

Nine.

Always running, I entered the only part of the town that had a vague similarity to my childhood memory of it: the alley way. It still smelled like grime, gore, and grunge, and that was something that I was grateful for—something that I welcomed with open arms.

Ten.

"I knew you'd be here, baby."

Shuffling my way behind the trashcan, I catch the sight of Frank, knees pressed up against his chest, his clothes smeared in grit, and his eyes bloodshot and swollen, sitting on the ground. Although in the last ten years he may have grown and matured, he is still nothing more than a child at heart.

"You came to look for me…"

His eyes twinkle as they catch mine, so delicate and youthful, like puppy dog eyes. Simply grasping a glimpse of them transported me to the day I first saw him, in this exact spot.

"Could I ever let myself lose you?" is the only thing I can mutter before he reaches up, wrapping his fingers into my hair, pulling me down so my lips stumble into his in a lazy, yet honest, kiss. Everything is real—we decided long ago that adding fake passion to our relationship just to "impress" was pointless. If we wanted to last, we had to act on our true emotions instead of playing a game.

After a couple of seconds, I break away, observing the grin embedding his face, as he pulls me down to his level by a short tug on a strand of my hair, so my knees are pressed against the pavement, my face close to his.

"You really need to dye your hair again," he sniggers, a lock of sunshine yellow hair still lacing its way between Frank's middle and index finger, twisting like a snake. I laugh at the statement.

"Is this really the best of times to bring that up?" I smirk, ruffling my hands through the mop of gold on my head, "Y'know, when we're basically sitting on our death beds, waiting for the world to blow up… It's a bit of a silly thing to say…"

His only response is a sigh, accompanied with a slight shake of the head. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I encourage him to go on.

"But isn't everything a bit silly these days, Gee? I mean, the whole world is crumbling around us, and all we do is hide… Damn it, Gerard, we aren't any stronger than the people who went into the City. Just because we didn't start taking the Pill suddenly means we're so much better than them? It's bullshit! Everything's bullshit!"

Taken aback, I retreat from his face a little, and I'm sure he can tell I'm hurt—no—shocked by his sudden outburst. Apologising, he corrects himself.

"What I mean is… D'you still remember when we first met here, ten years ago?" I nod, "Well, remember how I was hiding from those bullies, and you told me that I shouldn't hide, and I should stand up and face them?"

I think I know where he's going.

"Well, I've been thinking, what if this is the same? What if by hiding, we're doing nothing? We need to get out of this town, Gee, and fast. I mean, hiding here, no matter what we do, they're going to find us eventually, but if we get up and fight… Well, yes, there is a good chance they'll get us. There is a good chance they'll kill us, but there is that slightest, ever so tiny shimmer of hope, that we might make it—that we might get out of this alive.

"And I don't know about you, but I like the idea of living, so, I'm going to do whatever it takes to have a chance of that.

"So, I'm leaving, Gerard. I'm leaving before nightfall, before the bombs get any worse, and I'm going to run off to the desert. I want you to come with me—no, I need you to come with me, but if you don't want to, I'm still going. And that's final."

Before I can tell myself to do otherwise, my lips smash into his, as I grab onto the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. After a few seconds of adjusting, he begins to kiss back, content with being dominated, but willing to fight back. Our lips battle as senses collide.

Yes, real passion.

Breaking free and gasping for breath, my eyes meet his.

"I want to fight with you. I'm not letting you do this alone."

As he smiles, that childish juvenile smile that tugs his whole face into the most beautiful silhouette of happiness, he clutches onto my hand.

"We should go find the guys, then."

And he pulls me up and walks me out of the alley way.

We're ready to move on to a new game.


End file.
